


Bartering Faith

by farad



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: M/M, Supermagnificent AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 22:14:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9291752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farad/pseuds/farad
Summary: The second of the two stories set in  Deannie's awesome Supermagnificent universe; this one deals with Josiah telling some of his secrets to Vin as they come even closer.Set between "Assembly" and The Tascosa Saga.The first one is "Redefining Faith".





	

**Author's Note:**

> Again, thanks to Deannie for this wonderful universe and all the help! All mistakes my own.

“So – it's some sort of magic?” Vin kept his voice low, not wanting to draw attention. They were sitting on the steps in front of the church, the evening air comfortable as the heat of the day passed. He could feel the first stirrings of a breeze, one that would grow in the night so that come first light, it would take little effort to catch with his wings extended. Just thinking about it made his feathers twitch and spread against the rough cloth of his shirt.

 

The corners of Josiah's lips curled a little, the beginning of a grin that didn't quite settle on his face. “That's the best word I've found for it,” he said, though he didn't seem happy about it. “The fellow that first taught me was a Chinese wizard – he wouldn't have called himself that, but that's what he was. We were in San Francisco at the time, my father hoping to convert many of them to his way of thinking.”

 

Josiah leaned back on his elbows, stretching out along the stairs. He was a big man, broad and muscular. Vin had carried him once, flown him from the cave at the Seminole Village up to the top of the bluff, and it had been a strain. But he had also been the third man Vin had carried so he was already tired.

 

He wondered what it would be like to fly with him now, to carry him up into the wind.

 

It wasn't the first time he'd thought that as of late.

 

Nor was it the first time he'd wondered if Josiah would like to fly.

 

That was part of the thinking that had gotten him to the point of asking about Josiah's powers.

 

“Think I told myself at the time that it was a way to teach him, this man who was so important in their community.” Josiah did grin then, but it was not a grin of happiness. “Told myself a lot of things back then, most of them horseshit.”

 

Vin found himself grinning. “Reckon we all do,” he said, looking up into the sky. The blue was darkening as the sun dropped and puffs of white were drifting in. His feathers twitched again, wanting the touch of water mist that came when he flew through the clouds, wanting the chill of being that high up.

 

Josiah sighed, staring out into the street. He nodded to Gloria Potter on the other side of the street, the older woman out sweeping the boardwalk in front of her store. She waved at them and Vin reached up, touching his hat. Josiah wasn't wearing one, having come out of the church to sit on the stairs when Vin had arrived.

 

“So he taught you how to make magic?” Vin prompted, wanting to draw Josiah's attention away from the widow who he suspected had some intentions toward Josiah. He tried not to think on that, though, not wanting to think too much on his own intentions.

 

“Not make it, no,” Josiah said, turning his head to look at Vin. “Magic is already out there, a force of nature, like a storm or a wind or – well, anything else in nature. We can't make it. The best we can do is try to control it.”

 

“Like lightning?” Vin asked, curious.

 

Josiah nodded. “That's a good analogy, yes. And just like trying to control lightning, it can be deadly when it's misused – or when it's misdirected.”

 

“Can be pretty damned dangerous when it's just out there in nature – I've flown through it from time to time. Can feel that power just being close to it. Is that what it's like for you? Can you feel the magic?”

 

Josiah frowned and he stared at Vin for a time, long enough that Vin started to think he'd asked something wrong. He shifted, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. As his stomach started to flip a little, he tried to figure out how to say he was sorry for prying.

 

But before the words could get to his mouth, Josiah said very softly. “No one's ever asked me that before. I haven't ever thought about it before. But yes, that is what it's like for me. I can feel it, everywhere I go. Like a – like a . . .” He looked away, back across the street but Vin could tell that he wasn't really seeing anything. “Well, sort of what I think you're saying, like the atmosphere just before a lightning storm, when your skin is tight and your hair stands up. It's not like that all the time – I don't think I could stand it if it were. But – yeah, it is a lot of the time.”

 

Vin considered that. It didn't sound like it would be pleasant. Though he did sometimes enjoy flying close to the storm.

 

Well, maybe more than sometimes.

 

“It is the power,” Josiah said so quietly that Vin could just hear him. “I was attracted to it when I was young, when I was thinking that I could use it to change the world.” He shook his head. “When I thought I could change my father. When I thought I could make him understand what he was doing to people.”

 

They'd talked enough over the past months that Vin knew of Josiah's family problems – not in great detail. But Josiah had said enough about his pa to make Vin think a lot about his own, and about how it might be a good thing he didn't know the man who had made him. He also knew that Josiah loved his sister and something was wrong with her, something that made Josiah mad at himself.

 

“Reckon I'd have done the same,” Vin said, trying to keep his voice as low as Josiah's. “If I'd had the chance to learn something that could have helped my friends, my family - hell, yeah, I'd have done it.”

 

Josiah swallowed then he sat up, leaning on his knees as Vin was. Their shoulders brushed and Vin felt a heat in his belly. “You got somewhere you need to be?” Josiah asked, his voice quiet.

 

Vin shook his head, then he turned to look at the other man. “Free as a bird,” he said, grinning at the truth of it.

 

Josiah nodded, a grin almost sitting on his lips but it passed as he said, “Let's go inside. I've got some stew and biscuits – and I think I've got enough to feed you. Rather not talk about this out here.”

 

Vin nodded, getting to his feet then holding out a hand to Josiah. He was pleased with the older man took it, though Josiah didn't really need the help.

 

They had been spending a lot of time in the church as of late, mostly talking about – well, almost anything and everything. Vin hadn't had much experience with churches before, not the kind that Josiah knew best anyway. He was finding, though, that he liked the light from the candles that were always burning, and he liked the quiet of it.

 

The peace. He wondered if it were because it was Catholic, but after listening to JD go on about how different it was from what he'd known back East, Vin thought that it was more a peace that came from Josiah.

 

He was coming to find that he found peace with the man. For all his religion, Josiah seemed to accept other people for who they were – well, unless they were trying to hurt people. He didn't accept that, but then, none of them did.

 

Vin watched as Josiah went to the altar and crossed himself before lighting a few more candles. Josiah stood, praying, before stepping back into the pathway and nodding to Vin. This, too, had become part of their ritual and Vin didn't mind. This was Josiah's home and he should do whatever made him feel welcome here.

 

The kitchen, though, that was where Vin felt welcome. As soon as the door was opened, he could smell the stew simmering, a rich, warm smell that made him hungry. He could eat all day – a joke that Josiah and Chris seemed to appreciate, though Vin didn't want the others to think too much on it. He had been careful not to eat a lot in public places like the saloon or the restaurant. He'd learned the hard way that people noticed things like that – especially here, in a land where food was still pretty hard won.

 

But Josiah – he had noticed. And he had made it a point to have enough for Vin.

 

And in return, Vin didn't drink Josiah's whiskey. It didn't affect him, not the way that it did the others. And it seemed a small thing to do, to leave Josiah with his alcohol. Just as it was with Chris and the others.

 

He didn't realize he was still standing in the doorway until Josiah said, “You want to sit down? Here,” he held out a cup, “and there's plenty more where that came from.” He grinned, and Vin grinned, too, knowing that the mug held water.

 

Vin took the chair between the stove and the table; it was one that Josiah had added recently, and he suspected that it was mostly for him – though he didn't want to ask. Part of him was pleased at the idea, but another part of him was worried about anyone doing something just for him. And it was just as likely that it was for Nathan, who did come by from time to time, and who was closer to Josiah than anyone else.

 

Josiah was at the stove, lifting the top off the pot. The smell of the stew filled the room and Vin's stomach rumbled in appreciation. “Won't be long,” Josiah said, glancing over his shoulder at Vin. “Just needs to heat a little more.”

 

“I ain't in no rush,” Vin said, though his stomach thought otherwise. To distract himself, he took off his hat and coat, setting them to one side and said, “So you were gonna tell me about magic and how you came to learn it?”

 

Josiah stirred the stew slowly, and he was quiet for a time. Vin knew the older man had heard the question, and he thought once again that he was prying, and he searched for the words to change the subject. But once more, before he could find them, Josiah spoke. He was still facing away from Vin, looking down into the stew, so Vin had to strain to understand what the man said.

 

“Compared to what the rest of you can do, I am – well, I feel like I am a charlatan. All of you have abilities that are – well, extraordinary. Nathan's healing, JD's abilities to move metal, Ezra's talents -”

 

“Hey now,” Vin interrupted, not liking this turn in their conversation. “You said it yourself, those first days: we are seven. And I believe that you saved my life with your magic, back at the Seminole Village. You kept Anderson's men from killing me after I'd been shot.”

 

It wasn't something he was actually sure of but it was the only thing that made sense. He'd talked to Chris and JD about what had happened that day, about the strange marks on Anderson's men – not gunshots, but something no one had seen before. They'd all been marked with a circle on them, and they'd not died pleasantly, not from the looks on their faces. JD had been the one saying the most – he hadn't known to be careful about what he saw or about what it might mean.

 

Josiah sighed, putting the lid back on the pot and turning around, slowly. He didn't look at Vin but he did move to the side, leaning on the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. “Yes,” he said slowly, “I guess I did. And I don't want you to think for a second that I regret that – I don't. I was so angry at the thought that they had hurt you – killed you – I couldn't stop myself and I'm glad I didn't.”

 

The words were rushed, like a creek in the spring, when the snow melts and the water tumbles over itself on it way down the mountain.

 

Vin let the words settle into his head, hearing the anger, the pain, the guilt – but also hearing, far in the distance, the fear for him. The concern. And maybe . . . maybe some affection.

 

“Guess it was a good thing you did,” he said slowly. “Reckon if you hadn't, I would be dead now.”

 

Josiah didn't look at him, but Vin saw the slow movement of the man's broad shoulders as they relaxed. “Not sure that's the case,” he said, but his tone wasn't as tense. “Guess my point is that the magic is easier to use in anger. Or hate. They try to teach us to feel nothing when when we use it, not to invest it with the power of our emotions. And that's what makes the difference between a master and – well, someone like me.”

 

Vin watched him, thinking. Josiah still didn't look at him, as if this talk scared him. After a time, Vin said slowly, “Way I learned it, not all feelings are bad. Some of 'em – like love and caring and them feelings that remind us that we care – those are good. Are they bad with your power?”

 

Finally, Josiah turned, looking at Vin. He was frowning, but Vin didn't think it was at Vin so much as at the idea in his words. Josiah said, “No, not bad – not like the negative emotions – like anger. But sometimes doing good things can be bad, too. Sometimes, you can help someone without thinking about the consequences of that help.”

 

Vin frowned. The idea of it didn't sit right. How could helping somebody be bad? Everything in his life had been the other way around – not helping, which was more often the case, was what made things worse.

 

Josiah nodded, looking at Vin as if he understood. “Let's say that I see Ezra playing cards with someone who has a good hand. And I know how much Ezra wants to win. He's got the outside cards to a straight and I know that he's going to try to draw to it. So I make sure that the card he gets is the one he needs.”

-

Vin frowned. “So he wins,” he says slowly.

 

Josiah nodded. “Yes, this time, he does. But the next time this happens, he'll remember that he beat the odds and drew to that inside straight. And he'll try it again. Only next time, I might not be there, and he will lose big. He knows better than to do this under most circumstances, but I tried to help him – and it makes him do take stupid chances from that point out.”

 

Vin smiled, thinking of Ezra and his 'stupid chances'. “Can't say that I see that being what Ezra needs to take stupid chances – he seems to enjoy those all on his own. But I take your meaning. Sometimes, doing a good thing for somebody makes 'em forget how to do it themselves. And sometimes, doing something good ain't what you think it will be.”

 

Josiah looked to him, frowning. He took several steps toward Vin, but he didn't sit down in his chair. Instead, he looked down, and Vin tilted his head back so that he could see the other man. Beneath his head, he could feel the soft down of his feathers.

 

“I . . .” Josiah sighed and turned his head, as if he were looking out the window. But the window was too far behind him, and his eyes weren't looking that way.

 

Vin thought about saying something, but he couldn't find any words. This had never been his strong suit, anyway – not talking. While he wasn't as silent as Chris, he knew he wasn't as talkative as most folk. It was hard to know what to say when so many things were going wrong around you and people were hurting. In the years of Hell in Tascosa, he had learned that talking usually got someone else hurt as well as himself, so he had stopped trying to talk when things seemed grim. It never worked anyway.

 

Josiah straightened slightly, just enough to move, then, without turning, he said, “I thought I could help my sister. I thought I could save her from my father – and maybe myself as well. When I first learned of the magics, I was – well, Hannah was having problems. Bad ones. My father . . .” His words faded and Vin knew that this was a hard thing for him to talk about. With a sigh, Josiah moved over to his chair and sat down hard. The chair squeaked as it took his weight, but it held. “My father was very strict. Too strict. He believed in beating the Devil out of us. The only problem with that was that Hannah didn't have the Devil in her – not at first. Instead . . .” Josiah shook his head, still not looking at Vin. “Instead, I think that what he did to her, trying to get her to live the way he wanted her to, actually invited the Devil into her. I know it did with me.”

 

Vin frowned. He knew evil – he'd suffered it for years. And he knew of beliefs about there being a god that controlled evil. But as far as he could tell, true evil wasn't something that men needed gods to show them.

 

True evil was what men did themselves.

 

“How did he do that?” Vin asked, watching the other man.

 

Josiah sat for a time, so still that he might have been asleep. Again, Vin thought that he had pushed too far, asked more than was his right to know.

 

Eventually, Josiah got up, moving back to the stove to stir the stew. He put it further back on the stove, away from the worst of the heat.

 

Then he walked over to the counter and drew down two glasses from the shelves and the bottle of whiskey that lived with them. He stood for a few seconds, as if debating, then he turned and walked back to Vin, dropping back into his chair and placing the glasses on the table. As he drew the cork from the bottle, he said, “My father was not a bad man. I don't want you to ever think that of him – or to think that I think that of him. But he did not understand or accept the way that the world was changing. He had an idea in his head of what was right – what was perfect. He could see no compromise with that.” He poured whiskey into both glasses, sliding one over to Vin as he lifted the second one to his own lips. After he swallowed, he went on, “He believed that there was only one way to do things, and that that way was the path to Heaven. He saw no other alternatives.” He drank again, though not as much this time.

 

“That give him right to treat his own kin the way he treated you and your sister?” Vin asked, trying to keep his own beliefs out of his voice.  


Josiah looked at Vin, his gaze narrow at first, angry. His first response to defend his father. But after a short time, the glare lessened to a soft pain, and he looked away. “No,” he said softly, “of course not. But . . .” Josiah looked away again and it seemed that the air grew cooler. “He was my father.” The last was said so soft that Vin almost didn't hear it.

 

He started to speak, then he stopped. He'd not known his own father – but he could remember when he had wanted to, could remember those times when he had been angry at his mother for not telling him who the man was who had left her with him – and who had most like left him with wings.

 

But Vin also knew that part of his desire to know his father was the same as everyone else: to try to find someone to love him, someone who would approve of him. He couldn't very well blame Josiah for that. “Reckon I'd have put up with a lot to know my own pa,” he said softly. “Was lucky that the People took me in and I got a man, who thought of me as his own. I'd have done anything for him.”

 

Josiah nodded slowly, and one side of his lips curled up a little and the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease. He leaned back in the chair and sipped again from his whiskey. Vin did the same, letting the flavor of it roll around on his tongue.

 

“Hannah tried to follow in my footsteps. But she didn't have the opportunities I did – she couldn't get away from our father. I should have been there for her – I should have tried to save her. But once I left the seminary – once I broke with him – it was easier to think that I couldn't go back because he forbade it. I was afraid I would make things worse for Hannah. We wrote letters, and she told me that she kept my letters to her hidden, so that he wouldn't burn them.” He shook his head. “Once, she told me that he had found one of them and he beat her, beat her and threatened to send her to a convent.”

 

Vin swallowed, not sure how to feel about this. The beating was bad – hitting a woman was always wrong. He didn’t quite understand that the issue of the convent was, though he had the sense that it was something like a jail for women. Though he had sometimes heard of women who wanted to go to them and stay there. Hannah must not have wanted to.

 

“She found the power to summon,” Josiah said quietly. “Eventually, she found the way to the Devil and she brought him back with her.”

 

Vin shook his head. “You mean, a demon?”

 

Josiah took another sip of his whiskey. After he swallowed, he said, “Yeah, I guess that’s the best word for it. I think of it – him – as the Devil – Satan, but that’s probably my father talking. And my guilt. She never saw that it was controlling her, driving her to do things that – well, that ended up driving her mad.”

 

Josiah drank more of his whiskey, finishing it off. He reached the bottle and poured some more, then pushed the bottle toward Vin. Vin hadn’t had more than a sip of his own so far, so he left it sitting as he asked, “You mean that, don’t you, that she lost her mind.”

 

Josiah didn’t look at him. “When I finally realized what was happening, my mentor and I managed to confine the demon and break the bond between them, but doing that was the final break for her. She – she . . .” He shook his head, closing his eyes.

 

Vin did pick up his glass of whiskey, wishing that it would effect him enough to give him some idea of what to say.

 

Josiah cleared his throat and said, still quietly, “The irony of it is that my father’s threat to lock her in a convent happened, but I was the one who had to do it. The demon killed him before I got there.”

 

Vin swallowed the whiskey in his mouth and said, “You did what you could. Ain’t your fault that you didn’t know.”

 

Josiah shrugged. “I’ve tried telling myself that, and at one level, that’s probably true. But I did know how horrible her life with my father was, and instead of trying to help her, I ran away to make my own life better. If I’d been there for her, if I’d just made the effort to actually go back instead of trying to do it all by letters. . .”

 

Vin shook his head. “You can’t save someone else if you can’t save yourself. I know that, J’siah. You do, too.”

 

Josiah shook his head and sipped again from his glass. Then he said, “After that, I tried to pull away from the magic – I hated it, hated what it had done to Hannah, blamed it for keeping me away from her – which was easier than seeing my own faults. My mentor – he tried to make me see that it was too late, that once I knew of the magic and had worked to control it, I could never turn away from it. I left him – I left everything I knew. I tried to go back to the Church, thinking that I if I could do penance, I could find a way to atone, to be reborn, but the call of it was even louder there – and it was the lure of the evil side, not that of God.”

 

Vin thought about that, the temptations of evil in the religion of the white people. He had heard stories from his native kin of the things that happened in native people in the name of the white man’s god, and it made a certain sense.

 

Josiah pushed up out the chair and went back to the stove to stir the stew again. The smell of it was filling the room and Vin’s stomach growled. Josiah glanced over his shoulder and smiled. It was a sad smile, but it was a smile nonetheless. “Ready to eat?” he asked though he was already reaching for the bowls.

 

They didn’t talk for a time which gave Vin a chance to think – though he was distracted by eating. Josiah’s stew was thick and hearty, potatoes and beans and just enough meat to flavor it, with a thick gravy that hid the staleness of the biscuits they ate with it.

 

As he started to fill up, Vin got back to the conversation. “Is she still in that convent?”

 

Josiah finished chewing the bite he had in his mouth and nodded. “I try to visit her from time to time, but it’s hard. She knows who I am sometimes – but sometimes she doesn’t. She doesn’t talk any more, which is probably a good thing. I worry that one day, she’ll recall some incantation and do something to the nuns or the people who come there.” He dropped his spoon into his bowl as if he were finished, though he still had more than half of his bowl full.

 

Vin put down his own bowl and rubbed his hands on his thighs. “Can it work that way? Can things happen just ‘cause you use the right words?”

 

Josiah looked at him and the corners of his lips twitched in the beginnings of a smile. “No, they can’t. One of the very first things you learn is that magic is based in intention: you must want what happens. It’s part of the training - to learn to focus on the end result. And the way to make that happen is through the will that you put into it.”

 

“So, then, if she don’t have the will to make something bad happen . . .”

 

Josiah shrugged. “That’s what I’ve been assuming. But I don’t know for certain what she’s capable of.” He sighed. “I suspect this isn’t the best dinner conversation. I didn’t mean for it to become so depressing. Let’s change the subject.”

 

Vin reached out, dropping one hand on Josiah’s arm. “I knew you were a good man, J’siah. This just tells me that you’re better than I knew. Taking care of her – seeing her that way – that’s a burden. It’ll wear on you.” He tightened his fingers, feeling the taut muscles and hard bone in the arm. Josiah was a big man and Vin’s fingers weren’t long enough to close around the thick forearm. But the flesh was warm and giving – like the man himself.

 

Vin felt that warmth wash through him, deep and soothing.

 

“Thanks for letting me talk about it. It’s not something that I like to think about, much less talk about, but sharing it with you . . .” He looked at Vin. “It feels a little easier now. Like some of the weight of it is gone.”

 

Vin nodded, pleased despite himself. It wasn’t as if he’d done anything other than ask questions. Pry, maybe, but if it made Josiah feel better, then he could live with it. With another squeeze of his fingers, he reluctantly let go of Josiah’s arm and pick his bowl back up.

 

Josiah picked up his spoon and dipped it back into his stew. “I tried not to feel the magic for a long time after that, tried to trick myself into thinking that I never had done it so I didn’t know anything about it. But the more I rejected it, the more it seemed to reach out to me. I would wake in the middle of the night, dreaming of the feel of harnessing magic, the flow of it through my veins and over my skin. It was if I were addicted to it, and trying to ignore it got harder and harder. I drank more to try to forget, and that worked for a time, but then – then it stopped working.” He paused, taking another bite and chewing is slowly.

 

Vin watched him, finishing off the rest of his bowl and setting it aside. “I tried for a long time not to fly,” he said. “Seems the more I fought it, the more I felt the need to have to do it. It’s because it’s part of who I am now. Sitting here now, just thinking of it makes my wings hurt – well, not hurt, but they feel sorta achy, like they’re trapped and need to spread out. You know, like when you’ve been sitting too long and your legs need to stretch, or your back starts to cramp. Like that.”

 

Josiah nodded, taking another bite. He didn’t chew this long and after he swallowed, he said, “It did feel like that, at first. But the longer I ignored it, the worse it got – to the point of pain. Eventually, I started drinking to try to forget, but then, even that wasn’t enough. I woke up one afternoon in my room to find that I had performed a transformation. I had turned the room a rented into an Indian garden – not the natives here, but the ones across the ocean. Fortunately, I had had the presence of mind to put the concealment on it so that no one not in the room saw it as such.”

 

Vin smiled, picturing it in his head. “Reckon there are worse things you coulda done. You have lots of pretty women waiting on you, bringing you food and the like?”

 

Josiah smiled, looking at Vin finally. “I wasn’t that drunk – well, more like I wasn’t that powerful.” He sat back, pushing his bowl away and dropping his hands to the table. “I think I knew then that I couldn’t separate myself from it. I guess you’re right. Once it’s in you, a part of you, it’s something you can’t ignore.”

 

Josiah’s eyes were pale, almost grey, but Vin thought that they might be blue, too, like his own. The color didn’t matter, because when Josiah looked at him, Vin thought the man was staring into his soul.

 

Staring into his mind. Which was probably why the next words made so much sense. “We’re safe here,” Josiah said softly. “You don’t have to hide them here, not here in the kitchen. If you want to take off your shirt and stretch your wings, no one’s going to see you.”

 

Vin blinked, then he glanced toward the windows. There weren’t many here, just one on the far wall, over the counters. Through it, he could tell that the sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows. The light in the room was coming from the stove, which glowed with the fire.

 

The only buildings behind the church were an outhouse and a shed, which blocked any direct view into the window. Unless someone were in the short area of yard that was just outside the back door, but Vin had never seen anyone there. Most folk came to the church from the front and the back was pretty much private. It even had a fence around it, to warn others away.

 

Josiah stood up and raised his hands, palms up, so that they were even with his chin. His gaze still met Vin’s but after a few seconds, his eyes seemed to lose focus, to soften. Then Vin felt a tingle – all over. It seemed to move through him, like a cold wind, but it wasn’t cold and it didn’t hurt. It was like the feeling of flying near a storm, the way that the air seemed to tickle. But it wasn’t just on his skin and hair but inside him.

 

It seemed to pass through him, though he still felt it as if it were in him, on him, and he looked away from Josiah, into the room around them. Nothing seemed to have changed – but nothing seemed as clear. The sharp lines of the counter, the stove, the table, seemed softer now, as if the edges had been worn down or softened. Vin blinked, thinking that it might be his eyes, but it seemed the same when he looked again.

 

“I’ve cast a cloaking spell,” Josiah said. “Though I think we’re safe enough, if anyone were to be outside – or even try to come in – they would see only what they expect to see. You’re safe here. No one will see your wings.”

 

Vin smiled. “You did that for me?” he asked, thinking about what it meant.

 

Josiah shrugged and let his hands fall back to his sides. Nothing seemed to change, so Vin thought the spell was still in place. “I want you to feel safe with me,” he said simply.

 

“But – you used magic for me. Thank you.”

 

Josiah looked away and Vin thought that he might be embarrassed. But his voice was calm as he said, “I can’t not use my magic, so I try to use it for the people I care about. People who I can – well, help. Not that you need help, but . . .” He waved a hand, still not looking at Vin.

 

Vin smiled, the warmth in his stomach growing. He reached for the buttons on his shirt, slowing pulling them open. His feathers fluttered in anticipation and his wing tendons seemed to hurt a little, as if they couldn’t wait to be released. It was always this way when he took off his shirt but somehow, he seemed more aware of it this time.

 

He tugged the shirt from his pants so he could unbutton the last buttons, then drew it off his shoulders. Even before he was shed of it, his wings were already unfolding, lifting above his shoulders and dropping down behind him. It felt good, almost as good as sex.

 

Though – maybe not. It had been a long while since he’d been with anyone. And right now, all he could think about was what it might be like to be with Josiah.

 

It wasn’t a thought he needed, not with the thrill of actually spreading his wings – because they did spread, as soon as he had the shirt out of the way, hanging only on one wrist. His wings lifted and stretched, taking full advantage of the freedom – and the space.

 

The kitchen wasn’t large, but the table was against the longest wall, with Vin’s chair against the wall and perpendicular to the long side at which Josiah sat. Standing, his wings could spread almost the width of the room – almost.

 

It was enough to get his pin feathers off the floor and his extension comfortable – not as far as he would like, but enough to work out the kinks.

 

He sighed with the pleasure of it, not really aware that he had closed his eyes until Josiah murmured, “Beautiful.”

 

Vin blinked and looked at the other man, to find him staring. Without thinking, he pulled his shirt up, reacting as he had learned, from years of fearing the worst. But even as he moved, he saw that Josiah wasn’t horrified, or scared, or shocked. How could he be? He’d seen Vin more than once already, he knew what Vin was.

 

No, the look on Josiah’s face was far from any of the expected responses. His eyes were wide but not with shock. His expression was one of awe, of wonder.

 

The look of someone seeing something like the sunset over the mesa, or the colors of the desert at sunrise. Or a dancing stream in the middle of a hot day.

 

It was a look that Vin had seen before, even directed at him, but in the past, that look had usually also had a look of either fear or greed with it. In truth, he had wondered if Josiah saw him as one of the angels of his faith, something who was – well, not Vin.

 

Josiah shook his head, his gaze traveling slowly over the length of Vin’s wings, from the tip of one all the way to the tip of the other. The look was slow, as if he were cataloging them, committing them to memory, but the look didn’t make Vin feel threatened or unclean. It was a look of appreciation, and, again, of wonder. “Like a hawk,” Josiah said.

 

“Yeah,” Vin agreed, turning to look at his right wing. “Though the colors – well, they ain’t so much how as – well, can’t rightly say what. An owl, maybe, or a good mix of different birds. But the structure and the span are more like a hawk.” He shrugged, not so much for his thoughts as for the feel of his wings as they moved to adjust to the movement. It was like scratching an itch that was just barely there, a good sensation that felt natural and comforting.

 

Josiah took a step, as if he wanted to be closer but the table was in front of him. He lifted a hand, as if he wanted to touch, but he pulled it back.

 

Vin watched him, his wings flexing as he stood. “It’s all right,” he said after a time. “You can touch.”

 

Josiah was watching Vin’s wing and it took him a while to speak, as if he were being drawn from a place far away. When he did turn and look at Vin, he frowned. “What?”

 

Vin swallowed, feeling uncertain again. He was still holding his shirt in one hand and he lifted it, taking it in both as if to fold it. “You can touch ‘em if you want. You ain’t got to – I don’t mean to be forward. It’s just that you look like you want to.” His mouth felt dry and he wondered if he could sound any more stupid.

 

But Josiah turned his head to one side and looked back at Vin’s wing. “You don’t mind?” he asked.

 

Vin blew out a breath, relieved. “No, not you,” he answered. “Don’t make this offer to just anybody though. Just – so you know.”

 

Josiah nodded, once more turning to meet Vin’s gaze. “No, I don’t suspect you do. Reckon we’re both real careful about who we let . . . see us. Touch us.”

 

The last two words were softer, so quiet that Vin barely heard them. He wasn’t sure what to say, so instead of speaking, he stepped forward, turning toward the other man. Instinctively, his wings drew in, the left one feeling the heat of the stove and drawing away, the right one drawing in a little so Vin could turn.

 

The feathers drew together as the wings compressed, but that only made them softer. Not the Vin noticed it too much himself, but he had been told by the few others who had touched them how they felt in different positions and extensions.

 

And he could tell, by the look on Josiah’s face as his fingertips brushed over the long arch of his right one, that the older man hadn’t expected this.

.

For his part, he hadn’t expected, either, the way that Josiah’s touch made him feel. The heat in his belly was a fire now, but it was muted by the physical pleasure of the light, easy touch that caressed him. Slow and steady, a gentle pressure that rubbed with the lay of the feathers, not against, stroking them into place against each other, settling them perfectly.

 

It was a feeling that Vin hadn’t known often, but one that he treasured. It was a rare experience, like having someone comb through his hair – but far more pleasant.

 

He could stand like this for hours – and would, if Josiah were inclined to keep stroking. But the intimacy of it grew, a pressure of its own, and eventually, Josiah sighed. “Could do this all night,” he said, “but don’t think that’d get either of us any rest.”

 

Vin almost argued – but he caught himself. While he was enjoying it the way a cat loved to be stroked under the chin, he knew that he had no right to ask for more – and that asking for more could push too hard. What they had now was fragile.

 

He knew that Josiah cared for him. But the boundaries of that caring were still unclear – not just to him, but to Josiah, too. That had been part of the lesson in Josiah’s story tonight. And Vin wasn’t willing to take a chance on pushing too hard, too fast.

 

So slowly, he drew his wings back in, giving them time to adjust to going back into place. Then, after Josiah reached out and touched the mass of them, pressed tight against his back, one last time, Vin struggled back into his shirt.

 

As he reached for the buttons, Josiah stepped a little closer and his big fingers brushed Vin’s away. “Thank you,” he said as he buttoned Vin’s shirt. “You do me a great honor by trusting me.”

 

Vin swallowed, trying not to get too distracted by the feel of Josiah touching him. “Figure it’s the other way around,” he said, closing his eyes and concentrating on his words. “You did magic for me.”

 

He heard the amusement in Josiah’s voice. “Then I guess we’re even on this one.” He buttoned the topmost button that Vin used then reached to settle Vin’s bandanna into place. “Anytime, though, that you want to spread your wings, all you have to is say so.”

 

Vin swallowed again, with difficulty, and forced his eyes open. “Reckon that works two ways,” he said, hearing his own hoarseness. “Anytime you want to see ‘em, all you gotta do is say so.”

 

Josiah smiled, wide and warm and happy. He reached up and touched Vin’s cheek, a simple gesture, but one that was more intimate than anything else they had done. “Thank you,” he said. “I will take you up on that.”

 

Vin smiled, wishing they could stay this way forever. But he was the one who moved first, awkward suddenly. “Let me help you clean up,” he started, but Josiah waved a hand and stepped away.

 

“It’s nothing,” he said, picking up the bowls and walking over to the counter where he set them. “I need to do something.” He turned around and leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms once more over his chest. “You heading out tonight or staying in town?”

 

Vin hadn’t really thought about it until now. He looked out the window, seeing that it was full night. “Best to stay here, I guess. I’ll get an early start in the morning, ride out before dawn and . . . check on things.”

 

Josiah nodded and pushed back onto his feet. He reached out once more, but this time, he touched Vin in the center of his chest. “Be careful. I know – I don’t have to tell you that. But . . . it just seems like I should.”

 

Vin smiled. “I always am – but I’ll try to be extra careful.”

 

Josiah nodded, touching Vin’s chest once more. “Good. I’ll have stew again tomorrow night, if you want to join me.”

 

Vin nodded, not sure what to say. He reached to his hat and coat, pulling them on. “What can I bring?” he asked.

 

Josiah took a breath. “If you find some meat, that’s always welcome. Otherwise – just yourself. The company is more than enough.” He lifted his hands and closed his eyes, his lips moving slightly, and Vin felt the same tingle he had earlier. This time, though, it was coming through him backwards and he noticed that the edges of the tables, the corners of the counter, even the light from the stove, got sharper. Josiah had ended the spell.

 

The warm feeling was back in the put of his stomach as he touched the brim of hat. “Reckon I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” He stepped toward the kitchen door, as had become his habit when he left. No use in letting people seeing his coming and going any more than they had to.

 

Josiah followed along, holding the door when Vin pulled it open. “Looking forward to it,” he said.

 

Vin stepped out onto the back stoop, looking up at the sky. The moon was bright in the sky, as were the stars. A perfect night to fly.

 

But for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel the need to put distance between himself and other people. Truth be told, if he’d been asked, he’d have stayed the night with one other person. Even if it was just to talk.

 

As if knowing his mind, Josiah said, “Glad you’re staying in town tonight. Nice to have you close.”

 

Vin looked at him and nodded. As he turned away and started across the small yard to the gate, he realized that he, too, was glad to be close to someone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
